


Dance into Your Heart

by cornertwin1, stirlingphoenix



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Developing Relationship, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, Humor, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Sheith Reverse Bang 2018, Slow Burn, Strippers & Strip Clubs, businessman shiro and lotor, lancelot is a side pairing, stripper keith and lance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-06 02:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15185165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornertwin1/pseuds/cornertwin1, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stirlingphoenix/pseuds/stirlingphoenix
Summary: The great thing about cheesy pop songs was the fact that they had a short duration. At long last, it was Keith’s turn. He tugged his fingerless gloves one last time before climbing the steps to the stage, passing Lance on his way down. His coworker had worked up a light sheen of sweat, but on a guy like Lance, it gave him a flawless dewy look. This only irritated Keith further.“Beat that, Mullet,” Lance mumbled under his breath with a devious smirk.Keith rolled his eyes in response, keeping his own smile in check. He had planned a little surprise for his rival. He prepared himself, rubbing some gripping gel onto the insides of his thighs. One more stretch and he was ready.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Sheith Reverse Bang](https://sheithreversebang.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!  
> Co-authored by cornertwin1 and stirlingphoenix.  
> This story has some gorgeous artwork created by the lovely [midori250](http://midori250.tumblr.com/), and their work can be found [here!](http://midori250.tumblr.com/post/175617307510/some-of-my-art-pieces-from-dance-into-your-heart)

‘ _Don’t worry about it_ ,’ he said. ‘ _The transition will be quick and easy, you’ll hardly even notice_ ,” he said.

Yeah right. That was the last time Shiro was ever going to listen to Lotor on anything, ever. If not for Lotor's 'brilliant’ plan, which essentially amounted to leaving Lotor’s father’s company and starting their own competing business as co-founders of the new establishment Lotor had in the works. Sure, holding the title of CEO (even if the title was shared) was the major advancement he’d hoped to achieve one day, but Shiro wondered if things were moving too quickly. At least with their current positions, they had a steady income, although they had to work late hours and were grossly underpaid for their work, never received credit for any progress made, and not to mention the abysmal benefits package...

All right, fine. He and Lotor had every reason in the world to leave Zarkon’s company and begin anew. To Lotor's credit, the change between jobs had been seamless—apparently, Lotor (the schemer he was) had been planning the grand upheaval of their careers for months in secret, only telling him at the last moment to make sure everything was kept under wraps until they were able to make a clean break. Between Lotor and himself, the brand-new company was up and running within days after leaving, and they had a steady clientele of their own already. The hours still weren’t great, but it was just the two of them in the beginning, and Shiro had several interviews lined up for next week, so that issue promised to resolve itself soon enough.

Everything seemed to be coming together, but the one thing Lotor certainly didn't have to do (on his own accord, Shiro might add) was hire Slav as part of their tech support division.

' _Look I know he's_ ,’ Lotor had paused at that, as if trying to think of the least offensive term possible, ' _trying_ ,’ was the word he'd settled on after a bit, _'but if Zarkon ever wanted to hack our system, Slav’s the only guy who could do it. Better he's on our payroll than the competition’s_.’

‘ _You know when I agreed to this, I was under the impression there would be certain individuals I wouldn’t have to see again_ ,’ he’d replied at the time, still not quite resigned to his fate.

‘ _I never promised who you’d never have to see again_.’ The sly grin Lotor had given him in response did nothing to quell the brewing sense of dread that quietly festered in the pit of his stomach.

Eventually, he conceded. When it came to his father, Shiro understood Lotor had every reason in the world to be paranoid about a potential security break. But even so, Shiro hated when Lotor had a point, especially when it involved working day in and day out in the same building with someone as irritating as Slav.

 _Maybe it won’t be so bad_ , he tried to reason with himself. After all, Slav’s office was on a completely different floor of the building, far away from Shiro’s on the top level. For once in his life, Lotor made things easier on him by handling most of the communications with the tech team, which left him to deal with the ‘business’ aspects of their company. It worked out well enough, and Shiro soon grew accustomed to the new course his life had taken.

That was, until the day his monitor blacked out on him right in the middle of a report he’d been working on for three days straight.

* * *

 

Keith lightly stretched his arms as he waited for his turn. Lance was currently practicing his routine for center stage, some annoyingly upbeat pop song that was going to be stuck in his head for the rest of the day. He folded over, curving his tailbone to stretch toward the ceiling as he warmed up his tight calves. Keith gave a little glare at his leather-clad toes, the heels for the night laced up to his ankles. He breathed out a grateful prayer that at least they weren’t stilettos again.

Keith pulled himself up, adjusting his low slug booty shorts as he watched Lance twirl around the pole. Tanned legs stretched and folded to the beat, toes perfectly pointed and manicured; Lance tended to fling off his shoes during his performances, though Keith could never guess why. He knew exactly how much those platforms had cost.

The great thing about cheesy pop songs was the fact that they had a short duration. At long last, it was Keith’s turn. He tugged his fingerless gloves one last time before climbing the steps to the stage, passing Lance on his way down. His coworker had worked up a light sheen of sweat, but on a guy like Lance, it gave him a flawless dewy look. This only irritated Keith further.

“Beat that, Mullet,” Lance mumbled under his breath with a devious smirk.

Keith rolled his eyes in response, keeping his own smile in check. He had planned a little surprise for his rival. He prepared himself, rubbing some gripping gel onto the insides of his thighs. One more stretch and he was ready.

Pidge was at her usual spot in her booth off to the right of center stage, her signature headphones wrapped around her neck. She shot Keith a look as he positioned himself, her eyebrow arching. Usually, she made Keith’s routine songs, mashing techno, dubstep, rock and other genres when he just didn’t care to pick his own music selection. Their eyes met from where she sat, leaning over her turntables and other music equipment. This time all she had to do was press a button to play a slightly edited track, so she looked ultimately bored, but her brown eyes held a glint of mischief.

Keith gave her a curt nod and turned his back on the audience. There was a beat of silence before 'Focus' by Ariana Grande poured through the strip club’s speakers, the stage lit up a soft red with a spotlight on Keith who grooved through the first verse, rolling his hips and swaying his shoulder, still faced away. Keith saw Lance’s jaw drop out of the corner of his eye and could barely pick out the sound of Pidge’s cackling under the music. He returned his attention back to the song.

He fell to knees, resting his weight on his shins while lifting his rear. He arched his back as the bridge started, laying down and kicking his leg up into the air before pulling himself up with the pole, timing a wink with the 'ting' that triggered the chorus perfectly.

Now facing the crowd, Keith held the bar behind him as pulled his gloves off with his teeth one at a time as he shook his hips, one of his signature moves, before continuing his routine on the pole for the rest of the song. He allowed himself to throw a shit-eating grin where he knew Lance was watching.

Lance’s jaw had returned to its original position, slightly tightened with annoyance. He had planned to use that song in the future, but all those hopes were dashed away as he watched Keith’s performance. Lance may have had the legs, but damn did Keith have the hips.

“Touché,” he murmured to himself as Keith finished, panting lightly. Keith tossed his hair out of his eyes, retrieved his gloves and slipped them on as he climbed off stage.

* * *

 

The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, prickling at Shiro’s olfactory senses and reawakening him to the surrounding world. The shades surrounding his office windows had long since been drawn, leaving him unable to gauge the time of day, unless of course, his exhausted mind ever thought to glance at the time on occasion. But with his computer consistently alternating between the dreaded ‘blue screen of death’ and a total blackout, and his silenced phone cast aside, time simply wasn’t something Shiro needed at the moment.

Eventually, his eyes broke away from his desktop monitor and followed his curious nose in discovering the source of where he might find coffee, only to find Lotor standing in the doorway of his office, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with his hair carefully combed back in such a way that made his regimen look effortless and his suit neatly pressed, making it abundantly obvious he’d just arrived to work for the day. Shiro took far more interest in the saucer Lotor held in his hands, adorned with a cup presumably filled with the espresso Shiro had been trying to find for the past few seconds. A line of steam stemmed from the cup and twisted up into thin air, as if the savory drink needed another reason to entice Shiro further.

“I thought you could use a drink.” Lotor voice was far too lively for him, as he couldn’t help but be a tiny bit envious with the fact that clearly someone had gotten his beauty rest in last night, whereas he’d only dozed off at his desk for what felt like a grand total of five minutes.

Reaching over for his cell and pressing the center button, the screen lit up, displaying the time, 09:43 in glowing white font. So, he really had been here all night, not that he’d expected anything less at this point. While he wasn’t particularly thrilled about it, he’d long decided he wouldn’t leave until he’d finally finished the blasted accounting report, the one he’d need by the end of the week to present their investors with the current standings of their new company.

The soft ‘clink’ of fine china being set on his mahogany desk brought him back to the situation at hand; the smallest of smirks tugged at Lotor’s lips, which automatically made him suspicious. There wasn’t always a motive behind Lotor’s apparent generosity, but in this case, he wouldn’t put it past Lotor to spike his drink with something a little more ‘fun’.

“It’s not even 10 a.m.,” he announced, not at all enthused about whatever Lotor might be trying to pull.

Instead of the chuckle he expected to hear, or the carefree admission of ‘Oh you got me,’ Lotor’s entire demeanor changed to one of pure offense as if he truly couldn’t believe Shiro would ever suspect such behavior from him. “I only added one creamer and two sugars, thank you very much.”

Shiro had every reason in the world to remain skeptical, but at this point, a sip of coffee that may or may not have been given a splash of “Irish” flavoring wouldn’t hinder his brain functions any more than an all-nighter already had, so with his eyes trained on Lotor the entire time, Shiro dared to bring the proffered cup of coffee to his lips and try it, only to discover that Lotor had in fact, been telling the truth. The sweet taste of pure sugar cane, coupled with the milky flavor of creamer that dulled an otherwise strong Colombian coffee washed over his taste buds, eliciting a soft, approving hum from his lips.

Shiro had to force himself to not down the whole thing in one go, resolutely returning the cup to its saucer on his desk with another sigh, pressing the fingertips of his hands together before looking back to where his partner leaned against the wall.

Lotor met his gaze unimpressed, still offended that his character had been called into question. Shiro gave him an apologetic smile and a bit of a shrug, feeling a little more human now that he had some caffeine in him. Lotor rolled his eyes but forgave him easily enough, brushing off the event with a toss of his long silver hair. “How long have you been here?” Lotor began, taking small calculated steps toward the window before opening the drapes with a flare.

Shiro winced at the sudden onslaught of light. He could already feel Lotor’s disapproval before he even answered. “I, uh, I never left,” he finally admitted.

Almost on cue, Lotor clicked his tongue before plopping himself onto one of the chairs in front of Shiro’s desk. Shiro was quick to voice his defense, however. “Hey, I was here finishing up that accounting report, you know the one that I’ve been working on for the last three days?” His voice came out a little short, which couldn’t be helped given his lack of sleep. “It would’ve been fine, and you would’ve congratulated me if my stupid computer hadn’t decided to completely die-”

“What?!” Lotor shot up from the chair and stared at Shiro, perfectly sculpted eyebrows furrowing together in alarm. “And the report?!”

At this, Shiro cast his eyes down to his desk. He picked up his cup and took another sip to stall for a few seconds. Now he wished Lotor had made it a little Irish; he was going to need something a little stronger to confess what had happened.

“Shiro!” Lotor pressed on, slapping the desk firmly to demand attention.

“I lost it ok? The computer won’t turn on and I can’t figure out how to fix it!”

The room fell into silence as Lotor processed this information, no emotion on his face except for the tightening of his jaw which Shiro knew meant he was annoyed. He could already see his partner thinking up solutions.

After a minute or so, a smile broke out on Lotor’s face. Shiro’s heart dropped. He knew that smirk way too well and it was never a good thing. Especially when it was aimed at him instead of their competitors.

Without breaking eye contact, Lotor tossed his hair over his shoulder as he reached for the phone at the edge of Shiro’s desk, his slender fingers punching in the extension for the front desk. “Yes, hello Sharon? Can you patch me to the second floor? Thank you.”

Shiro’s mind raced. His sleep-deprived brain couldn’t remember which department belonged to the second floor of their modest building. As he tried to recall, Lotor spoke once again as the connection went through.

“Hello, yes, I would like to request a repair tech for floor five, Mr. Shirogane’s office? As soon as possible please,” Lotor carried on nonchalantly, keeping an eye on Shiro’s face. Waiting.

Shiro had started putting the pieces together. Repair tech? No. Lotor wouldn’t call him...would he?

“Oh, he’s the only one you have available at the moment?” Lotor was beaming as it dawned on Shiro. “By all means then. Please ask Mr. Slav to come up straight away.”

Shiro tried to muster a glare in Lotor’s direction as he wrapped his conversation up with a smile and standard pleasantries, he wanted to make Lotor regret this clear betrayal of their friendship and think twice before he so willingly welcomed Slav into his office again—but when the devilish grin covering Lotor’s face refused to waver, Shiro knew he looked more exasperated than anything else. He was tired, and while Slav was the absolute last person he wanted to deal with right now, putting up a fight just wasn’t worth it. Perhaps if he simply grit his teeth and accepted Slav’s advice without complaint, it would be over quickly, and then if he managed to finish that damn report before lunch he could call it a day and leave early. He deserved that much.

“My apologies,” Lotor began as he set the phone back down on top the switch hook, “but this situation needs to be rectified as quickly as possible. That report is essential, and I don’t need to remind you of the implications of what might happen if there is something amiss with your computer.”

He knew Lotor was right, the safety of their data and security systems came before anything else, but even so, he still had to resist the supreme urge to roll his eyes. The excuse was legitimate; however, the remorse was as fake as the plants he kept for decoration in his office. “You’re not sorry,” he deadpanned.

Lotor’s eyes seemed to sparkle with delight at being so blatantly called out. “How’s the coffee?” His tone was light and conversational, but Shiro knew exactly what Lotor was up to, and it wasn’t a change in subject.

“Not enough to buy my forgiveness,” Shiro quipped easily, nevertheless taking another sip from his cup. It wouldn’t make up for having to deal with Slav, even if the problem was fixed in less than five minutes, but he wasn’t going to deny a decent cup of coffee when he had one.

Lotor snickered but otherwise did not respond. Shiro could almost see the cogs turning in that conniving mind of his, thinking over what he’d need to do to get back on Shiro’s good side again; he had no doubt that Lotor would come up with something sooner or later—he always did.

Before total silence fell upon the room, he heard the unmistakable ‘ding’ of the elevator going off just outside, signaling Slav’s arrival. Sure enough, the absolute bane of Shiro’s existence, the infamous Slav himself, appeared at the threshold of his office only seconds later.

“You called for a repair?” Maybe it was all in his head, but Shiro swore he sounded somewhat annoyed, as if Slav had already decided that whatever was wrong with his computer had to be the classic ‘user error’.

With a heavy sigh, Shiro stood up and stepped off to the side, offering his chair to Slav so he could look at his desktop. “Yeah, my computer just shut off suddenly and I can’t get it back on, and if you could help me recover a file I’d been working too, that would be great.” He shot Lotor a pointed look as Slav entered his office and came around behind his desk. “Do you have somewhere else to be?”

Shiro already knew the answer to that, but Lotor still gave him the courtesy of at least pretending like he might have something else to do by looking down at his watch as if trying to decide how much time he had to relish in Shiro’s suffering.

“I’ve got a few minutes,” Lotor replied after a second, crossing his arms over his chest and getting comfortable in his chair, making it all too apparent that he had every intention of seeing this play out. “Uncovering any potential issues with our tech is my highest priority.”

If Shiro wasn’t so tired, he would’ve mustered up the energy to roll his eyes. As it was, Shiro was already employing what little willpower he still had to not make any remarks at the looks Slave deliberately gave him.

He watched Slav as he worked, trying to commit his actions to memory, that way if this ever happened again Shiro could try to troubleshoot it himself instead of calling a repair tech and risk getting Slav once more.

Lotor caught on to what Shiro was doing and gave him an amused smirk. Shiro didn’t hesitate to scowl in response. Lotor chuckled and they resumed their silence.

“You know when you have a complete system shutdown such as thing one, there’s a thirty percent chance of total data loss,” Slav murmured conversationally as if he were merely talking about the weather. “If that is the case then I’ll have to do a reset or a reboot depending on the severity of the crash, then reinstall company apps and access ports as well as—"

Slav’s voice was fading into the background. His words had made Shiro go ramrod straight. The white floof on Shiro’s head began to bounce slightly as he started praying to every god that he knew that this wouldn’t be the case, that it wouldn’t happen to him! It was one thing to have lost the report he had been slaving over the past few days, but to lose his current work and records for multiple accounts entirely? His eye twitched.

“But surely that wouldn’t apply here?” Lotor responded evenly, sensing his friend’s distress. His gaze flitted to Shiro for a second before adding. “You can fix it right?”

Slav turned his frown away from the desktop and aimed it at Lotor. “No disrespect, sir, but I’m good at my job.” He shifted to face the computer once more, continuing his work as he clicked away on the keyboard. “If the repair proves to be unsuccessful, it will be no fault of my own.”

That was the last straw. Before he even knew it, Shiro had slammed his fist against the table. Slav flinched while Lotor fixed him with a mild glare. Shiro’s abandoned coffee, however, tilted in his cup. All the frustration flew out of Shiro as he panicked, simultaneously reaching for the cup to right it while pulling himself back to not bump into the desk with his thighs and knock it over anyway. He froze, hovering above it while his coworkers looked on. When the coffee failed to spill, he let out a sigh of relief.

Slav caught his eye and, without looking away, nudged the cup away from the keyboard to the far side of the desk, accusation explicit in his demeanor. Shiro had the decency to blush, slightly ashamed of losing his temper. He’d acted foolishly. If he was screwed before, a motherboard fried by a precariously placed cup of coffee would have surely been his downfall.

After a few final keystrokes, Slav pushed himself away from the desk with a satisfied smirk. “There, the task is complete. No total shutdown.”

As Slav stood and approached the door, Shiro threw himself into the chair, his fingers flying against the keys as he entered all his credentials to the system. His leg jiggled as the screen loaded.

“And the report?” Lotor was on the edge of his seat.

Shiro pulled up the save file. “It’s here,” he breathed. Both he and Lotor sunk back into their chairs.

“If that will be all, sir” Slav nodded to Lotor.

Lotor dismissed him with his own nod and a slight wave of his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Slav.”

Shiro didn’t even register him leaving. He was checking the rest of his work, eyes flying across the screen as he pulled up document after document, spreadsheet after spreadsheet. No corrupted data, nothing lost in cyberspace. It was all there on his desktop, waiting to be updated and completed. He exhaled once more, peace finally settling within him as rechecked the report once more to see what had survived. It was mostly intact, only a few minor revisions missing from the few minutes between his last save and the crash.

“Thank goodness,” Shiro sighed, slumping back into his chair and covering his eyes with his arm.

“That was not your finest moment, I must say.” The proximity of Lotor’s glib voice forced Shiro into an upright position—he didn’t care to admit it, but Lotor had a knack for sneaking up on him, and in cases like these, getting a little too close. Shiro still wasn’t sure if this little quirk stemmed from the seemingly innocent inability to gauge what constituted as ‘personal space’ or if it held the more sinister intention of unnerving Shiro (and succeeding every time) and after so many years, he was afraid to find out.

“No thanks to you,” Shiro sighed, resuming his earlier, less-than-ergonomic position in the chair, and increasing the space between Lotor and himself in the process. “I’ll have the report finished before noon.”

“I suspect you’ll take off after?” Lotor pulled back but continued to lean against Shiro’s desk in a manner that suggested he owned the place, which Shiro supposed he did, in the strictest sense of the definition.

“That was the plan,” Shiro agreed, knowing that at the very least, Lotor wouldn’t hassle him for giving himself the afternoon off.

It wasn’t a dismissal per se, but Shiro expected that to be the end of their conversation—he figured Lotor would go off to his next appointment (because surely, he had something better to do than to taunt him for the rest of the morning) and leave him to complete his work as he promised.

“What’re you doing later tonight?” Lotor’s casual inquiry cut through the blissful moment of silence that had settled between them, causing Shiro to exert a little too much energy in suppressing a groan, not that Lotor would have been deterred if he’d been made aware of Shiro’s displeasure.

“Tonight?” Shiro repeated after adding the appropriate punctuation to the report, mainly to serve as filler while his mind scrambled to recall what day it was, not that he ever had anything planned on any night of the week. Shiro was about to say as much when the small, yet devious grin playing upon Lotor’s lips caused his response to die on the tip of this tongue and keep his mouth shut. He knew all too well what that wicked smirk meant, and even without saying anything, Shiro knew his fate was sealed. With Lotor, a non-answer was every bit as good as an answer.

“We’re going out tonight, my treat,” Lotor declared, his eyes shining with satisfaction, as if he felt he’d come up with the best solution ever.

“That’s not going to work for me. I have to—” Shiro began, only fall silent when he still couldn’t come up with an excuse viable enough for Lotor to believe in.

“That’s what I thought.” The delighted hum that passed through Lotor’s closed lips grated on Shiro’s nerves a little more than usual, and this time Shiro didn’t bother censoring his disdain in the form of an eye roll.

“I’ll pick you up at 8 o’clock sharp,” Lotor paused for a second before adding: “and wear something decent.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shiro had been about to ask where Lotor would be dragging him off to, but that inquiry was cast to the wayside with Lotor’s blatant jab at his fashion choices, which in his humble opinion, was entirely unwarranted.

“I’ve seen you’re out-of-the-office attire. Gym shorts and a threadbare hoodie won’t cut it here,” Lotor declared, not bothering to even pretend to spare Shiro’s feelings.

“Anything specific?” A sense of instant regret washed over him the second he heard the question, but it was already too late to take it back—he could almost see the gears turning in Lotor’s head as he pondered his reply.

“Hmm,” Lotor’s began after a moment, giving Shiro the impression he’d really thought this one though, and more specifically, that this wasn’t the first time he’d spent time contemplating this exact topic. “Find something you’d wear on a first date, but give it that certain flair,” he explained, waving his hands as if the gesture would enhance Shiro’s understanding, “you know the one that makes it look like you just rolled out of bed and threw on the first thing you could find—the key is making yourself look good without giving off the impression that you care.”

For the umpteenth time that morning, Shiro had to suppress the supreme urge to roll his eyes. One of these days his eyes were going to roll into the back of his head and be stuck there, and it would all be Lotor’s fault—he was sure of it. “You’re joking.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Lotor replied with a shrug just as his cell went off, prompting him to check his phone before looking back to Shiro. “And that will be my next appointment,” he announced, pocketing his phone and turning to leave. “I’ll see you later then.”

“Yeah, later.” Shiro half-waved back as Lotor left his office, leaving him with the sinking feeling that this time around, whatever Lotor planned to ‘treat’ him to might turn out to be more of an inconvenience than anything else.

Regardless, Shiro had to admit that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone out and done something out-of-the-ordinary and spontaneous. At least with Lotor, he knew he wouldn’t run the risk of things getting out of hand and ending up in a jail cell—not that he would have ever done anything to deserve such a fate, but when events went south, on more than one occasion Shiro had found himself ‘guilty of association’. Lotor however, had his own reputation to protect, and wouldn’t drag Shiro into anything unsavory, so if nothing else, he had that going for him.

Knowing nothing short of sudden illness or an emergency would get him off the hook, Shiro took a deep breath, accepted the terms he’d been given, and got to work finishing his report. The sooner he completed his work, the sooner he’d be able to curl up with a blanket and get the rest he sorely needed. Who knows, perhaps after a high-quality nap he’d feel more optimistic about the entire situation, and maybe even look forward to it.

It felt like a long-shot, but theoretically, going out could do him some good, Shiro just had to let himself be open to the possibilities.


	2. Chapter 2

Keith was feeling it tonight, which was a bit surprising. It was the day after rehearsals and he had managed to snag a shift before his classes started getting too busy. He slipped up the dark hood of his jacket before posing on the dark catwalk alongside his fellow co-workers, waiting for the stage lights to flick on so they could make their opening entrance. There was still a small rivulet of nerves dripping down his spine, but he was always like that when they were about to open. Especially he was wearing next to nothing, just bright red underwear that always reminded him of a Speedo. Keith found solace in the fact that he hadn’t picked at his outfit once after donning it, a habit he did when his wardrobe left him feeling less than comfortable. Tonight his confidence soared.

Lance passed Keith on his way to his spot just a few paces forward pausing to yank Keith’s leash with a chuckle. Keith frowned and pulled away as Lance moved on, adjusting his own collar as he walked. Keith didn’t mind wearing collars, their outfits were made to fit the club’s vibe after all and changed often depending the on night. But he couldn’t believe that he lost to Lance on who got to wear the leash for the night. That leggy blue boy was a total cheater at paper scissors rock.

Yet when the lights finally came on to reveal the dancers, the cheer that surrounded the stage brought out Keith’s grin. Everything else immediately washed away to be dealt with later. He wasn’t Keith anymore. He was Red, a spitfire with a low key (but obvious) beauty.

Keith rose from his bent over position, jutting out his hips invitingly as the dancers made their way down the aisle. The crowd cheered throughout the whole procession, catcalling, complimenting and whistling for their favorite dancers. This fueled Keith’s good mood, adding a little more bounce in his step. His smile glinted in the background lights and his hair was falling just the way he liked. Flirting was easier like this, so he called out some encouraging responses between blowing bubbles with his gum. Touch wasn’t as unwelcomed now. He crossed dangerously close to outstretched hands only to turn on his heel, teasingly brushing by with a laugh and a twirl of his leash. It was times like these that Keith remembered why he liked his job so much.

On most days he was a neutral party, not one to turn up his nose at the job yet not one who really got super into the role either. While other workers were more aggressive, walking up to offer a dance with a shimmy of their hips and enticing displays of their bodies, Keith took his time looking at potential suitors, seeing what they were like. He already had a steady supply of trusted regulars that he didn’t need, nor really cared for, new blood. However, whenever someone fresh entered the club and managed to catch his attention, Keith scooped them out, got a feel for their character and then decided whether to approach or not. Right now, he had his eyes on a certain beefcake by the bar.

The said beefcake managed to dig himself in his mind. Keith hadn't gotten a good look at who he had come in with, he had been too busy with a client and only caught a flash of long silver hair. Maybe a girlfriend or something? One could never tell with the kind of varied audience the club always brought in. Soon it seemed no matter where Keith looked, the man was there.  
  
By a table when he crossed the floor to check his music at Pidge’s DJ booth, in the hallway heading toward the bathroom when Keith was returning from the dressing rooms after doing some touch ups. Keith had enough. He yelled at himself to grow a pair and was about to make a move, but next thing he knew Lance was nudging his shoulder. It was time for their performance. It took a second for this to sink in and by the time Keith roused himself Lance had already given the stranger an appraising look.  
  
“Showtime, Red,” before he could react Lance had grabbed Keith’s leash once more and this time lead him toward the main stage, much to the delight of passer-byes. Keith was too mortified at being caught staring by Lance to protest.  
  
Their show continued without much of a hitch, Lance up first as always. Lance took his time, teasing the crowd before the light dropped and the spotlight fixed itself to Lance’s tan skin. It was then that Keith spotted the man across the room, bright blue lighting up his features. He faced center stage but not right up close to it like some of the other die-hards. Keith waited as Lance took his turn on the pole, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from the stranger and do his preparations, When the song ended, Keith gave Lance some time to do his farewell goodbyes and pick up any straggling tips.  
  
"Way to go Blue!”  
  
“So sexy!”  
  
“Hell yeah!”  
  
Keith broke his staring to exhale all distractions from his mind, focusing on the dance ahead of him. He glanced to where the man stood and caught his eye. Without realizing it, his smirk grew. A small flame sparked in the pit of his stomach and he knew without a doubt that he was going to put his all into his routine.  
  
If the roaring cheers after his song had ended were any indicator of performance, he had just blown everyone out of the water. Keith took a play from Lance’s trick book and seduced his way off stage, collecting money as he passed. He gave himself time to get a drink, stash his pay, and cool down before he searched the main room again.  
  
This time the beef cake was alone at the bar. Keith took a moment to really get a good look at him: a tuft of white hair at the crown of his head, rippling muscles under a modest button up and a snug pair of slacks that showed off more of his toned physique. Keith was quickly discovering a hidden appreciation for a fit body. He gave his hair a quick ruffle for motivation and began to approach when he was intercepted by one of his regulars.  
  
"Red!"  
  
Keith reacted to his stage name, smiling despite the slight annoyance that crept up from being deterred from his goal. The feeling passed, however, as Keith greeted the man, one of his older clients by far, but he tipped well and respected the house rules to a T despite his habit of getting drunk every time he visited.  
  
"Hey, Zach. Are you doing alright? Am I gonna have to ask Hunk to help you into a cab or something?"  
  
Zach laughed, waving his hands in a dismissive gesture. "Nah, man I'm good, I'm good I promise."  
  
When Keith only raised an eyebrow, he chuckled again. "Really Red. I'm not driving, I already got a ride like a responsible adult," his voice took a shyer tone. "I just wanted to ask if maybe I could get a quick dance before I go?"  
  
At this, Keith's face softened. "Yeah. Thanks for thinking of me. Let's go grab a seat."  
  
Ten minutes later, with Zach on his way safely home, Keith scanned the club one more time to discover that the stranger that he had been enticed by was now nowhere to be seen.  
  
Keith let out an inaudible groan and immediately went to get a drink to mourn a lost opportunity.

  
"Hey Red," came Lance's honeyed voice from over Keith's shoulder.  
  
"Not in the mood, Blue." Keith was pouting. He didn't care.  
  
Lance slid into the seat beside him, adjusting his collar. He skin was flushed and instead of his usual drink, he grabbed a water.  
  
Keith arched a brow. "Did you have a good dance?" His counterpart looked like he had done more than dance, but Keith wasn’t the type to bring something like that up.  
  
There was something bright dancing in Lance’s eyes, but he didn’t respond, instead choosing to play with the bottle’s wrapper. After a moment, almost as an afterthought, Lance sang, “Someone booked you for a private room.” He waggled his eyebrows at Keith. “Someone who’s very _very_ good looking.”  
  
This wasn’t the dirt that Keith had been digging for but was intriguing all the same. Keith tucked a hair behind his ear to hear if Lance would continue but otherwise showed disinterest. Not that he shouldn't be happy to get booked for a private room. His slightly prudish nature made bookings fewer and farther in between for Keith's liking, but the man had principles, outright refusing to dance privately for anyone handsy, disrespectful or those who harbored certain expectations. Besides, he wasn't really feeling it anymore especially after the white tuft guy had disappeared.  
  
He was about to say as much when he caught Lance's knowing smile. At this he sat up and gave his friend his full attention.  
  
"What are you hiding?" he demanded automatically.  
  
Lance was now the one who seemed bored with the topic, though Keith knew him well enough to tell that he was hiding a smile. "Nothing you can't go see for yourself." He took a long drink of water. "He’s in room two."  
  
Keith fixed Lance with his signature glower, but the brunette had the gall to mime a zipped lip. Keith gave it a few more minutes before he let out a sigh in defeat and went to go attend to his customer.

“You can thank me later,” he heard Lance call out to him.

Keith strode to room two, eager to get the experience out of the way. He entered without any flair, not wanting to put in the effort if it happened to be some dirt bag, but stopped in his tracks when he saw a familiar face. There he was. Keith’s mystery man. Keith gave himself exactly two seconds to be surprised. By the time the door shut behind him, his face was pure delight and swagger.  
  
“I hear you booked the room for me. I must have made quite the impression if you asked for me on your first night here,” inside Keith was singing, yet his voice came out even and sultry. He wanted more of that blush the man gave when he set eyes on Keith. “I’m flattered.”  
  
The man obliged, glancing away as he twiddled his hands. He looked back a moment later, claerly nervous but not put off. The look on his face endeared Keith to no end.  
  
“I’m Takashi,” the beef cake introduced himself politely. “Takashi Shirogane. But you can call me Shiro if you’d like. And you are?”  
  
The line sounded a bit rehearsed, but given his professional attire, Keith didn’t think too much of it.  
  
“The name’s Red,” Keith responded, hating how much he sounded like Lance. He really needed to work on his flirting skills if it came down to accidentally using one of Lance’s lines.  
  
Shiro looked confused for a second before realization shone on his face. “Oh,” he murmured softly, “right.”  
  
Keith gave him an apologetic grin. He couldn’t just go around giving his real name after all. He dropped the subject there and took a few steps to a control panel on the wall, adjusting the lighting and making some music selections. Soon a low bass and seductive lyrics filled the room. Keith turned back to Shiro with a flirty flip of his hair. “Well let’s get this started, shall we?”  
  
Keith swayed his hips slightly, sinking into the music. His fingers curled around the shoulder of his jacket and moved to pull it off when Shiro cleared his throat.  
  
“Um, I’m so sorry but can we…maybe do something else?”  
  
For a moment all Keith could do want blink back at him, half his shoulder bared to the man he found so delectable. He had never had a customer react that way. “Uh…,” Keith tried hard to find an appropriate response, torn between politely declining and telling him to fuck off.  
  
As if sensing his distress, Shiro quickly continued. “Oh! Oh no, nothing like _that_ . I meant more- I meant,” he quickly cut himself off and buried his face in his hands. “Jesus.”  
  
Keith waited for an explanation as Shiro gathered himself. The dancer was relieved that the man he had been scoping out hadn’t been another perv, yet he was still guarded. If he didn’t want any extra service, or even normal dancing, what else did he have in mind? He didn’t have to wait much longer for an answer.  
  
“I-I was hoping maybe we could just talk or something? I’ve had a really,” he sighed deeper than Keith had ever heard before, “bad day and all I want is to get rid of some stress. My friend thought that this would help but I’ve never been to places like this, so it’s just got me more riled up than anything else and I-“  
  
Keith held his hands up in a stop gesture. “Okay, okay, relax! I don’t need you to have an aneurysm or some mental breakdown or something. It’s fine really.”  
  
Shiro stop talking immediately. “Pardon?”  
  
Keith flicked his bangs and moved back toward the console, readjusting the light and music to something more…platonic, given the situation. As he approached Shiro, he pulled his jacket back on, but left it unzipped. “I have a lot of people who like to talk with me. Usually it’s while I’m dancing in their laps,” he tried, but when the joke didn’t hit he continued on. “But we don’t have to do anything that you don’t want. However you wanna spend your time is up to you.”  
  
Keith was a little disappointed with Shiro’s sigh of relief, but his understanding was rewarded with a beam. “Thanks,” Shiro murmured.  
  
"Sooo... did you come here with anyone?" Keith asked nonchalantly in attempt to make conversation. He tried to play it off as curiosity - and for the most part it was- but he did have somewhat of an ulterior motive.  
  
He was surprised to see Shiro make a face. "My business partner, Lotor. He didn't mention that we were coming to," he paused, peeking sheepishly at Keith, "a place like this. No offense but partying at strip clubs isn't really my style."  
  
Keith shrugged. “Don’t knock it til you try it,” he grinned. He reached for the intercom to order a couple of drinks and chuckled at Shiro’s frown. “You get some drinks for free when you book the room. Come on live a little.” He hummed to himself with delight when Shiro finally relented.  
  
A few minutes later, drinks in hand and settled against the cool material of the seats, the two had graduated from small talk into more meaningful discussion.  
  
"What’s the cause of your stress anyway?" Keith wondered aloud. Shiro was still laughing at some dumb joke Keith had heard on the radio a few days prior.

  
"Um, would you believe me if I told you it was because of tech support?" Shiro replied when he had finally calmed down enough to answer.

Now it was Keith that was holding back a giggle. "Really?" he finally relented. "That's a new one. Usually it's loneliness, group parties, unbidden testosterone, closeted sexuality, dares," Keith had listed each off his fingers as he went. "But a tech support agent? Like how does that even happen?"

Shiro nodded, looking back at his drink to avoid staring at the finger pressed against Keith’s mouth as he thought of the possibilities. Keith watched as he took a sip before answering. "Yeah I know hard to believe."

"This I have _got_ to hear!" Keith twisted himself on the sofa to face the older man. Shiro now had his full attention. "Ok, spill."

Shiro chuckled once more and only need just a little more prompting before he began his tale about Slav, the infamous tech support rep or, as Shiro like to refer to him, the bane of his existence.

"And not to sound like a snob or anything, but I'm a pretty understanding guy," Shiro was saying, the relief of his venting allowing the flow of words to come easier despite that fact that he didn't even know Keith that well. They were both now leaning back against the chair, Shiro finally comfortable with Keith sitting nearby.

"But I don't know. There's just something about him that just gets under my skin and I exploded."

Keith laughed, clutching his drink close to him. With his eyes closed, he missed the way Shiro stared at him, eyes following the action.

"Yeah, I saw him a lot more back at my old company, but I had no idea that Lotor would bring him along to the new one."

"Lotor?" Keith prompted, raising an eyebrow. “The business partner, right?

“That’s him. He’s nowhere near as bad as Slav of course, but Lotor can be really-” Shiro was interrupted by a small chime of bells sounding through the control panel. His hour was up.

Keith looked at him guiltily. He had been enjoying himself, but business was business. He was still on the clock.

"Speaking of which, I really should go find him," Keith heard Shiro say as he stood to silence the alarm. "I haven't seen him since he ditched me for some brunette in cerulean underwear."

Keith nodded along with Shiro's words as he  tapped on the monitor, "Oh he's with Blue then."

"Blue?"

Keith nodded again. "Yeah. He's a-" Keith struggled for the right term for Lance. Dick? Rival dancer? Grade A pain in the- "he's a popular co-worker," he finally settled on, not wanting to give up too much information. “I get paired with him a lot, thus the matching names.”

Shiro stood up and handled him a small envelope, which Keith easily recognized as the tip money Shiro was supposed to use for Keith’s dancing. Part of him almost didn’t accept any of it, but a man had to eat. He gave the envelope back however, still mostly full with a few bills missing, and dodged when Shiro tried to return it to him.

“You spent enough on the room as it is,” he insisted.

For some reason, this made Shiro blush. “I didn’t pay for the room,” he admitted, scared that he had somehow offended Keith.

But Keith only smiled. “Well that makes more sense,” he dismissed Shiro’s concern with a flick of his wrist.  As they began to part ways, Keith brushed his knuckles across Shiro’s arm. “Come see me anytime, even if all you want to do is talk. But next time, you pay.”

With a final wink, Keith sauntered away into the club.


	3. Chapter 3

Knowing Shiro had pretty much been dragged here on their last encounter, Keith was more than a little surprised to see Shiro again, especially so soon, only a few days later.

Seeing the dark, yet impossibly tender hue of Shiro's intense gaze immediately upon looking out at the sea of people salivating over his latest performance made Keith feel like he had a strong case of Deja Vu. Once again, Keith got the opportunity to set his eyes on the delectable hunk of beefcake that was Shiro's physique, with his tight button-up shirt that did little to hide his toned body, and a pair of slacks that perfectly accentuated his thighs—it was like Shiro had stepped out a men’s fashion magazine and right into the club.

While the schedule was never set in stone, after being here for so long, Keith had more or less figured out the visiting habits of the patrons he could count as ‘his’ regulars, or even if they were first-timers, he thought himself pretty good at reading people and differentiating those he could write off as a ‘one-time deal’ from those who’d eventually come back for more. Shiro was an interesting case, Keith found pegging him as one or the other difficult—not that he’d had much of a chance to think about it and was therefore left unprepared when he just happened to glance over towards the bar during a spare moment, only to double take when he recognized Shiro’s muscular form leaning against the counter, notably, with a bit more confidence than Keith had seen before.

In the corner of his eye, Keith caught a glimpse of his self-proclaimed rival from the opposite end of the room, and not surprisingly, with his silver-haired regular in toe. It wasn't like he was paying close attention to them, but he couldn't help but notice how quick Lance seemed to be in leading his favorite customer away from the public eye and into one of the rooms reserved for the club’s more generous clientele.

Even Keith had to admit the thought of having a regular that came to see him and had no interest in having fun with any of his other colleagues sounded kind of appealing. As he descended from the stage and made his way through the crowd, Keith eventually found Shiro where he was before by the counter, speaking with his manager. The conversation ended just as he got close enough to listen in, but the smile Shiro gave him when he turned around told Keith everything he needed to know.

“Back so soon?” Seeing Shiro again set something off within him, something he couldn’t explain. He was kind of excited to see him, and he knew his enthusiasm stemmed from a source far more significant than the prospect of a big payday. 

“It's been a rough week,” Shiro explained with a sigh, as if he owed Keith any sort of justification for his presence.

“It's only Tuesday,” Keith corrected, unable to help himself.

“A rough two days then,” Shiro deadpanned, the easy-going grin playing upon his lips made it clear that not only did he see the playfulness in Keith’s commentary, but that he enjoyed it too.

“Fair enough,” Keith replied, shrugging his shoulders as he sauntered over, getting closer to Shiro, but remaining just shy of invading his personal space. He found Shiro's behavior rather amusing and unlike the people he was used to entertaining on a nightly basis—Shiro was a fish out of water, a man who clearly didn’t belong nor try to fit in, but Keith figured that must have been part of Shiro’s charm—the reason he wanted to see more of him.

“Should we take this to a private room, or are you content to chat out here?” And just like that, Keith's confidence was back in full, perhaps even more so than usual. He’d never been quite so eager to whisk someone away—a small, barely audible voice called out to him from the back of his mind, wondering if this is what Lance felt like when his favorite customer (Lotor, was it?) came to see him. The notion, as intriguing as it was, filled Keith with a sense he couldn’t describe. It was new and exciting, something that enticed and all but begged him to throw caution to the wind and chase after it, but he didn’t. In the face of adventure and uncertainty, Keith managed to keep himself in check, telling himself it was more for Shiro’s benefit than his own.

“It's your call,” Keith added after a moment when Shiro didn't reply, his voice velveteen-smooth, Keith's slim fingers hooked themselves around Shiro's upper arm, intent on leading him away. While waiting for Shiro's confirmation, Keith allowed himself a second to marvel at the strength coursing just beneath the surface of smooth skin covered in a dress shirt made of fine silk.

The look Shiro gave in response was unlike anything Keith had seen from anyone he's invited away for private entertainment before. He was used to a certain level of excitement from his clientele, or total expectancy, as if Keith owed them a personal favor simply because he worked here. Either way, Keith took it all in stride. None of that mattered at the end of the night when he collected his tips.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Shiro looked more uncertain than ever, as if he felt he might be inconveniencing Keith, even though he had to know Keith was here for this exact reason. “I mean, do you have time?”

“Got nothing but time, Shiro,” Keith assured him, daring to run a wandering hand over Shiro's forearm. “Been waiting all night for you.”

It was his job to make the patrons feel important, like they were the one Keith had to look forward to. “Is that a line you use on all of your clients, or am I just special?” He didn’t know whether to be offended or laugh along with Shiro.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” Keith couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed a client like this, nor could he explain what made Shiro special, but now wasn't the time to figure it out. He still had a job to do and had every intention of doing it well, only with Shiro, Keith felt like he could relax and be himself, at least a little bit. “Besides, I saw you with the manager a minute ago, you were booking a room, right?” The smirk playing upon his lips widened just a bit. “You aren't looking to spend time with someone else, are you?”

“Take me away, Red.” Was it him, or did Shiro sound a little more decisive than before?

Either way, that was all the permission Keith needed.

“Gladly,” Keith replied with a satisfied grin playing upon his lips, tightening his grip around Shiro's arm, as if he thought Shiro might change his mind and slip away somehow, and leading him off through a near-endless throng of people towards the back rooms.

“So, long week you said?” Keith resumed their conversation once he had Shiro all to himself and settled comfortably on the plush leather sofa. Out of habit, he slid into the empty spot right next to Shiro, getting a little too close for polite conversation, until something went off inside him like a warning bell, reminding Keith to check himself—that Shiro probably wouldn’t be amused by his usual moves, most of which began with the not-so-subtle swing of his legs over Shiro’s lap. Under normal circumstances, he found that particular strategy highly effective in keeping clients’ interest—after all, when he boiled it down, looking good was what paid his bills. But again, Shiro wasn’t just any client, he was new, unchartered territory, a challenge Keith was more than willing to take on. He just needed to figure out what made Takashi Shirogane click.

“Excuse me. Long two days?”

His correction earned him a small chuckle from Shiro before he responded. “Work's been kind of stressful,” Shiro's answer was accompanied by a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Nothing you haven't heard before, I'm sure.”

“Can't say it's not,” Keith admitted, turning towards Shiro a bit and allowing himself to lean back in the chair he shared with Shiro, “but not everyone sounds like they could use a break as much as you do.” Turning his back towards Shiro, Keith lifted his legs and swung them over the armrest, letting his ruby-red heels dangle over the edge—if Shiro’s lap as out of the question, then this would do in a pinch.

“Is that a note of pity I detect?” The quirk of one of Shiro's dark eyebrows that easily denoted his skepticism was offset by the touch of humor peppering his voice.

“Just an observation. I mean, if memory serves,” of course Keith remembered, but he’d long since learned that admitting the recollection of specific details outright gave the impression that the relationship between Shiro and himself might extend beyond that of a stripper humoring their client, “but you work with Lotor, who frequently comes to see my colleague, yeah?” A curt nod of affirmation was all Keith needed to continue. “I know the type that keeps him interested, which is more than enough to conclude that he probably isn't the easiest guy to work with. Am I right?”

“You could say that,” Shiro admitted, but failed to elaborate further.

“Well then,” his reply was punctuated with a shrug of his shoulders. “You wanna spill your guts and prove me right, or keep being coy?” It took more effort than it should have for Keith to keep himself from reaching out to Shiro and running a teasing hand along his shoulder blade. “I get paid either way, so it's up to you.”

“Who taught you to be so blunt?” The tone of Shiro’s voice made it sound like was chiding him, but the playful grin pulling at the corners of his lips told Keith a different story.

“Born this way, baby~” was his automatic reply, delivering his line with practiced ease. “Got a problem with that?”

“Nah.” Shiro waved it off, “kinda refreshing actually.”

“Really now?” Now that was something he’d never heard before—Keith couldn’t decide whether Shiro was one of the more accepting individuals he’d ever met or just full of it, however, he planned on figuring that out.

“Yeah, really.” Only then did a true smile spread across Shiro’s lips, one that caused whatever response Keith had ready to dissolve on the tip of his tongue.

“To each his own, I guess,” Keith replied with a shrug, only to redirect his attention to a black knapsack he'd only now noticed Shiro had brought with him, which laid forgotten on the floor at Shiro’s feet.

“What’s in the bag?” He nodded towards the object in question, asking before silence had the chance to settle in between them.

The sheepish grin playing upon Shiro’s lips was contagious, causing Keith’s lips to break into a small, yet genuine grin of their own. “I brought you something,” Shiro began after a moment, turning away from Keith in favor of rummaging through the bag he’d brought with him.

“Oh yeah?” With his back to him, Shiro was unable to see the doubt flashing across his face, effectively keeping Shiro in the dark about his uncertainty.

“It’s not much, but,” without further explanation, Shiro pulled a small parcel from the knapsack he'd brought and turned back towards Keith, presenting him with it. “This is for you—thought maybe you could use a snack or something.”

“You really shouldn't have.” Keith didn't mean to sound ungrateful, he just hadn't expected something like this. It was unprecedented and totally unorthodox, and if anyone else had done it he might have suspected foul play, but with Shiro, there was none of that. No ulterior motive, no rhyme nor reason, just Shiro being Shiro.

“I wanted to,” Shiro replied, his voice wary and uncertain. “Is that all right?”

“It’s fine,” Keith managed to say after a moment, reaching out and graciously accepting the small bundle of food Shiro had prepared for him. He wanted to say more, to at least thank Shiro for thinking about him outside of the club, but before he could speak, Shiro's gentle voice cut through the air, making him forget whatever he'd been about to say.

“I made things awkward, didn’t I?” The grin playing upon Shiro’s lips began to falter, and at that moment, Keith wanted nothing more than to put that smile back on his face, right where it belonged.

“If it wasn’t this, it surely would have been something else you said down the line,” Keith quipped, flashing Shiro a teasing smirk, which somehow, was just enough to make Shiro crack a smile too. “It’s okay though, I know you mean well. Honestly though, if you think this makes my list of top ten awkward experiences at work, then you’re giving yourself way too much credit.”

That comment earned him a snicker—it was soft, real, and heart-warming. “I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised.”

“You really shouldn’t.” Keith nods in agreement. “Thanks for this.” Finally, he managed to convey some form of gratitude, as meager as it was, it was still something. “I actually forgot to pack something before work tonight, so you’re saving me from purchasing whatever junk food’s in the vending machines just outside.”

Perhaps Keith was mistaken, but Shiro’s eyes seemed to light up at that.

“I’m glad I could help,” Shiro replied, his smile brighter than ever.

 _It’s just not fair._ Keith thought to himself, his own casual grin set firmly in place. No one should have the power to lift his spirits so easily, especially not with something as simple as a smile.

The sentiment must have repeated itself at least a hundred times by now in the back of his mind, but it never rang so true before. Keith couldn’t put his finger on it exactly, but there was something endearing about Shiro, something distinctive that drew him in, made him hopeful for his return. Again, Keith found his musings being cut short, this time by the 'ding' of the alarm system that signaled their hour was up. 

“God is it that late already?” It took far more effort than it should have for Keith to suppress the disappointment he knew his, as Lance might put it, over-expressive face otherwise would have shown when Shiro stood up, straightening his pant legs (like he'd actually done anything that might have caused a wrinkle), and turning back to him, his expression an odd mixture of wistful and apologetic. “I should get going.”

“Big day tomorrow?” Keith asked, already anticipating Shiro's response, but voicing the inquiry anyway, simply because he didn't know what else to say.

“Something like that,” Shiro answered with an exasperated sigh, “have a huge presentation to get through tomorrow.”

“And that's different from the usual... how?” That probably sounded a lot more callous than he'd intended, but from his point of view, it seemed like Shiro was stressing himself out over something he'd surely done hundreds of times before and could most likely handle it in his sleep, so try as he might, lending a sympathetic ear wasn't easy in this instance.

“In theory, it isn't, but it's crucial we land this account if we're going to meet our projected revenue this quarter, and that's not just Lotor's incessant paranoia talking—I’ve crunched the numbers myself, and yeah well, you get the picture," Shiro explained, his voice apologetic, as if he thought he'd bored Keith with his explanation.

Keith still wasn't convinced this occasion held more significance than the rest (was he naive to think that every account was important, and that Shiro doubtlessly gave each presentation 110% without fail?) but if Shiro insisted on it, who was he to say otherwise?

“Better run along then, or you'll miss your curfew,” Keith teased, finally following suit and standing up with Shiro. As he usually did with other customers, Keith was about to escort Shiro out, but something held him in place.

“I really enjoyed talking to you tonight,” Shiro paused before adding, “and the other night too.”

“We can continue next time, perhaps?” His voice sounded casual enough to him and didn’t seem to betray the inexplicable desire to maybe see Shiro again—that simply wouldn’t do. No, for all Shiro knew, it was a throwaway line he used on every client, an empty expression that anyone could make of it as they wished. With that, he turned on his heels and led Shiro back out into the main area. 

“Yeah, next time.” The unmistakable note of honesty in Shiro’s voice brought Keith to a sudden halt, nearly causing Shiro to collide with him.

“Are you all right?” Keith felt a hand ghost over his shoulder, but that was as far as the contact got.

“What?” Keith blinked once, then twice, pulling himself back into reality, where he was brought face-to-face with unabashed concern written all over Shiro’s face. “Yeah,” was the automatic response, forcing a smile. “Just spaced for a moment—thinking about when I’ll be able to take my break and enjoy the food you brought me.”

If Shiro knew he was lying (which Keith was certain he did) he didn’t call him out. “I hope you like it,” was the only response Shiro gave on the matter, and if Shiro wasn’t going to push it, neither was he.

“I already love it,” Keith replied, perhaps a little too quickly to be totally believable, however, the radiant smile Shiro gave him in response outshined every woe and concern he'd ever had up until now and left him with a sense of inner peace.

“Don't say that ‘til you've tried it,” was Shiro's immediate counter, but Keith knew when he was being teased.

“Oh right,” Shiro began once his snickering had died down, pulling out an envelope presumably filled with cash.

“Keep it,” Keith said before Shiro could make an attempt at pawning the money off on him, raising his hand to make sure Shiro didn’t even try.

“You can’t let me off the hook like that,” Shiro insisted, a small smirk playing upon his lips. “I’d be remiss to let you start up with such poor business practices on my watch.”

“Poor business practices?” Keith snickered. “Is that what you’re calling it?” As they approached the door, Keith came to a stop. He placed his hand on the knob, but instead of pulling, he turned back towards Shiro. He wasn’t ready to let Shiro back out into _the wild_ , not just yet. “Did you pay for the room this time?”

“Before I met up with you, yes.” Shiro nodded. “Wouldn’t want you to think I was trying to get away with something.”

“You? Get away with anything?” The tension in his jaw lessened a bit, softening his smile. “Never.”

“Well then?” Shiro reached out for him once more with the envelope in hand, clearly intent on paying his due. “Please?”

“Hmm,” Keith let out a soft hum, if only to give Shiro the impression that he was seriously considering Shiro’s offer. “Nah,” he said after a moment, waving the money away, his fingertips accidentally brushing against the pale skin Shiro’s outstretched hand in the process. “You’ve already paid me in food, I’d say we’re even.”

Shiro’s brows knitted themselves together in a scowl, clearly not satisfied with Keith’s reply. “Since when do you work for meals?”

“I don’t, maybe you’re just special,” Keith replied with a playful wink as he finally turned the doorknob, pulling it open and standing off to the side before gesturing for Shiro to lead the way. “Come back again and see what happens.”

“Yeah.” Maybe it was just his imagination, but he could have sworn Shiro’s eyes brightened upon hearing his sentiment, as if knowing the possibility of settling a debt that existed only in his mind was enough to renew his determination and succeed later. “Next time. See you, Red.”

The smile Shiro gave him just before turning away and leaving for the night made Keith weak in the knees. Reaching out to brace his free hand against the threshold of the door, Keith took a moment to process this—Keith didn’t have a label for it, he just knew it too much, a lot more than he usually dealt with at work.

When Shiro was gone and the coast was clear, Keith allowed himself a second to inspect the contents of the bag Shiro had brought him—a turkey sandwich, a bag of chips, two chocolate chip cookies—nothing out of the ordinary, but thoughtful nonetheless. And was that a small package of baby carrots at the bottom? The amount of care Shiro must have put into this was starting to verge on the alarming, and Keith wasn't sure what to make of it.

The thought was short-lived, however. For the umpteenth time that evening, Keith's musings were cut short when Lance's disheveled form tumbled into his line of vision. From curls of damp brown hair sticking out every which way, to the necklace of dark blue and purple love bites peppering the base of his neck, to the precarious way the straps of his heels had been laced back up—Lance looked a wreck in every sense of the word.

“Fun night, huh?” He let the comment slide only after Lance was within ear-shot. It was painfully hard not to laugh when Lance clearly wasn’t even trying to hide the evidence of his rendezvous.

“Oh, shut it,” was Lance’s snappy reply, but his tone held none of its usual rudeness, nor did Lance provide him with any follow-up banter, which was more surprising than anything. It didn't matter—provided he didn't get himself caught, Lance could do whatever he wanted, no skin off Keith's nose.

In lieu of a response, Keith waved Lance and his huffy comments off in favor of refocusing on himself and his 'thing’ with Shiro, which may or may not be a 'thing’ in the first place. Shiro was, well he didn't really know what Shiro was. Keith knew he liked Shiro, he really liked Shiro—his smile, his awkward, albeit charming sense of humor, his kindness, his—

Maybe it would be easier to think about what he didn’t like about Shiro—at least that made for a short list, if it existed at all. Whatever the case, Keith had every reason in the world to hope Shiro would come to see him again. He didn't wish for Shiro's presentations to flop, or god forbid if Shiro suffered through another computer malfunction that required tech support, or anything else that would result in Shiro's distress.

Perhaps Shiro wouldn't need a reason to come back other than to see him—a longshot to say the least, but a shot nonetheless. But until then, what was he to do with himself—endlessly pine over a man he barely even knew? Hardly. Shiro or no Shiro, Keith had a job to do, and he was damn good at it. Nothing was going to get in the way of his work, especially not something as insignificant as a teeny tiny, microscopic crush. Keith would pull through it, he always did.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of clarification the italics are a min flashback to earlier in the week. Also here's a link to the song that Keith dances to in case you're interested: https://youtu.be/y4HJRZMz2ic

Keith was not pulling through. He always did before but it became more obvious day after day that he wasn’t going to get over this stupid little crush he had managed to get for Shiro.

Yet that wasn’t what annoyed Keith the most. What grated on his nerves was that deep down Keith knew he didn’t want to stop crushing on Shiro. Keith gave no merit to anyone who would lie to themselves for any reason, so the knowledge of his willingness to allow such a thing to not only continue but also thrive? It drove him mad, especially when he caught himself looking forward to Shiro’s visits with far more interest than required. Now a speck of white or bulging shoulders had him craning his neck.

“Who ya looking for, Red?” Lance bounded into Keith who roughly shoved him off the second he managed to pry off all of Lance’s too long limbs. Lance simply giggled before joining his friend on the bench by the wall. He leaned back, returning his arm around Keith’s shoulders affectionately. Leave it to Lance to find Keith on their shared break.

“Nobody,” Keith sneered with one last huff, crossing his arms and leaving Lance's arm where it was. That, along with his worried expression took the earlier edge of his snark. Even Keith could tell that he was pouting.

“What?” he demanded after catching Lance eyeing him for the seventh time in the past three minutes. His co-worker shrugged his slim shoulders yet said nothing.

“Blue, seriously, quit it.” Keith resisted the urge to pull at his hair. It was enough that Lance was already staring at him the way he was already. He didn't need to give him any more of a reaction that he was strung out. And boy was he strung out.

“ ’mmh not doin nuthin,” Lance murmured around the straw as he sipped at his drink, evidently alcoholic this time in both color and the fancy little umbrella resting on the rim.

Keith didn't respond, already lost in his train of thought, just like he had been before Lance had barged his way into his little space. He always seemed lost in his mind these days, distracted, anxious. And it was all Shiro's fault.

If the realization of his severe crush hadn’t been a big enough issue, for some reason or other Shiro hadn't been showing up to the club for almost a month. In the first few weeks, Keith pushed the fact aside as no big deal. Shiro was a businessman after all. It wasn't like he was required to come to the club. Despite what the two of them shared, Shiro didn't owe him anything. After all he was just some dancer at a club. Who didn't even dance for Shiro! He just listened to his rant about his troubles sometimes! No point in wasting all that energy worrying when he could be dancing and working for his tips.

But by the fifth week and still no sign of the familiar beefcake, an uneasiness had settled itself into Keith's stomach. He found himself glancing toward the door every now and then during his shifts, with small bouts of disappointment when he didn't find who he was looking for.

Sometimes it wasn't disappointment, but rather an anxiousness. A restlessness that Keith could no longer ignore once that last week came along.

_"Hey, Hunk, you haven't seen a buff dude with a tuft of white hair enter the club tonight have you?" Keith approached the bouncer with a grin meant to cover up his uneasiness._

_It must not have worked because Hunk gave him one of his signature sympathetic smile, the one he always gave Lance when he was complaining about boy troubles or Pidge when she was so sleep deprived that she coulnd't remember basic troubleshooting for her PC._

_"No, not tonight," Hunk only hesitated for a second before continuing. "Buddy, that's the fifth time you asked me that this week and it's barely Wednesday."_

_Keith's eyebrows shot up. He hadn't realized it had been so many times._

_Hunk was fixing him with a look that had Keith regretting that he had even bothered asking his stupid question in the first place. "You okay there, Red? Is there something bothering you? Perhaps something to do with this guy you keep asking about?"_

_"I-uh you see-" the words were caught in Keith's mouth, heat blazing across his cheeks. He needed to bail._

_"Because I like to think that we're more than just co-workers," Hunk chatted firmly, wanting to get his point across but lacking most of the intimidation he usually wore during work hours. "We're friends. And as your friend, if you have anything that's been bugging you, say a certain white-haired guy-"_

_Keith flushed deeper._

_"-I would hope that you would find me reliable enough to confide in me if you need to." Hunk ended his mini lecture with a beam that hit Keith right in the heart. He couldn't help cracking one in return._

_"Thanks Hunk. It's nothing bad, I swear Shiro's the perfect gentleman. It's just he hasn't been around in a while and I guess...I just got used to seeing him?"_

_It was a lame attempt of explanation that nowhere near covered everything but seemed to be enough to satisfy Hunk. "Well if you ever need someone to talk to or want some advice, I'm happy to lend an ear.”_

_Keith couldn't help but chuckle. "Gotcha Hunk," he replied easily. "Better get back to work."_

_After that, Keith couldn't bring himself to ask about Shiro again. He didn't know why he couldn't talk about it, least of all to Hunk who was as understanding and nonjudgmental as they come. It wasn't as if he were revealing anything grand, yet for some reason it felt very personal. Private._

_Thus, Keith resorted to trying to figure it out by himself, which lead to long periods of contemplation. Or what Lance like to lovingly refer to as 'Keith's brooding phase'. And earned himself a kick in the shin almost every time._

_It annoyed Keith profusely when Lance was proven right just a few days later._

_"Keith. Keith!" Keith startled out of one of those said moments to look up at Pidge who was glaring at him. She gave his arm a shove as punishment before turning back to her laptop. "I was asking if this progression matches your choreography?"_

_When Keith looked at her lost, she groaned. "Come one really? We're working on the song for your next routine? Care to give a little input before I just splice in the whole SpongeBob theme song with that rubber duck noise from that vine I showed you?"_

_Keith groaned the threat. "Dammit Pidge I told you no! One, there is nothing sexy about SpongeBob and two, for the love of all that is holy please don't make such an abomination a reality you evil genius."_

_Pidge let out her signature cackle and typed away at her keyboard before playing a more suitable arrangement._

_"Yeah, I like that one more," Keith nodded, still a little distracted._

_"Keith what is with you? That the same one I played you a second ago." Pidge stared at him and Keith, reminded of Hunk, immediately raised his guard. "Does...does this have anything to do with that guy Lance and Hunk keeps telling me about?"_

_Keith stiffened yet gave no response._

_Pidge stared at him in silence for a bit before shrugging it off. "Whatever, man. You don't wanna talk fine, but I need you to get it in gear."_

_Keith nodded and put more effort into their session. Pidge let it slide but teased Keith about his aptly named brooding for the rest of their time._

That had been on Friday, yet here he was again losing his head when he was supposed to be working. Damn, Lance was right. He was brooding.

"Hellllooo, Earth to Red, come in Red," Lance jostled Keith's shoulder and Keith mentally kicked himself.

"You're right, you're right!" Keith scowled. "This is whole mess," he gestured vaguely to himself, "has to do with Shiro. Or rather the fact that he hasn't shown his face here in almost a month! I don't know if I did something wrong or maybe I just helped him too well with all his shit and now he's done with me, I don't know. It's not like he left some explanation or something."

"Whoa, geez Mullet, calm down," Lance twisted more toward Keith, trying to read his face.

"Well what else am I supposed to think?" Keith cried in frustration. He picked at his fingers, needing to let out all his energy somewhere other than his voice. He didn't want to cause a scene after all. How embarrassing would that be?

They sat in silence for a minute before Lance sighed deeply, falling back into the bench. "Perhaps you just misread something somewhere down the line. Maybe he just doesn't like you the way you think and hasn't been coming to distance from that," Lance pointed out casually, playing things off as a joke like he always did.

Keith knew Lance didn't mean anything by it, but his words cut deep. It surprised Keith. He remained silent.

Lance exhaled sharply, knowing that what he said didn't have its intended effect. He tried again. "Well, whatever," he shook Keith's shoulders to rile him out of another musing. "Forget about him. He’s good looking sure, but he's not the only one out there. Plenty of fish and all that." He waved his hand in the air in front of them.

Keith's gaze followed the movement and drifted up to Lance's face. His smile was easy, yet there was a hardness in his eyes that Keith hadn't noticed before. "Hey. Are you ok?"

The question seemed to startle Lance. He looked back at Keith, almost confused as if he couldn't believe that Keith had seemed to read him. Keith gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Lance straight out laughed at the effort, his chuckles deepening at the sight of Keith frowning. Lance ruffled his hair as an apology, which only miffed Keith more.

"Here," all traces of Lance's earlier disposition had disappeared as he relinquished his drink to Keith. He had morphed into the Lance that Keith was most familiar with, easygoing and all smiles. The shift eased Keith's mood a bit; it wasn't that Keith lacked concern for his friend's wellbeing, rather he didn't find himself capable enough to handle the type of responsibility necessary when dealing with an emotional Lance.

Lance gestured for him to drink it and Keith relented. It was a bit sugary for Keith's liking but the warmth of the alcohol soothed his mind some.

"Don't listen to me, man," Lance began, drumming his fingers on the arm of the bench with a huff, "I'm just...I just going through my own thing. Look, you like this guy I know you do."

Keith immediately found an interesting shaped ice cube and dug for it with the straw. He tilted the glass back, capturing it into his mouth.

Lance nudged him. "Don't even try to deny it. Don't you dare. It's been written on your face since the day you set your eyes on him. Why else would I set you up as his dancer for the private room?"

The ice sputtered out of Keith's lips. "What?! That was _you_?"

Lance gave Keith an incredulous look. "Really? You really thought that was only a coincidence?"

Keith threw up the hand that wasn't occupied. "Well, yeah! How was I supposed to know?"

Lance rubbed his forehead, clearly aggravated and trying not to show it. "Of course, you were supposed to know! I was the one that told you!" He began to mutter to himself in Spanish, something he did when he was truly fed up with something. Or someone. Keith was all too familiar with the habit.

Lance let out a harsh breath through his nose. "Dude look, I know you can be a bit of a block head sometimes so let me break it down for you. _I_ was the one that set all that up. His friend-"

"Lotor," Keith interjected

A flush bloomed across Lance's face as he brushed off the interruption. "Yeah. Lotor, whatever. Anyway, he asked me if I knew anybody that Shiro would like and I had seen the way you had been eye banging him the whole time he was here. Yes, eye banging, I saw the way you stared at him as you danced. So I thought, being the good friend I am, that I would take it upon myself and say that you would be a good choice for Shiro, but he was shy so the private room seemed like a better place for a first dance and all that..."

Suddenly, a thought popped into Keith's head. "Why would Lotor ask you for advice in the first place?" he wondered aloud as he aimlessly played with the straw.

Lance sputtered, eyes racing for a second before focusing on Keith. "You- You're missing the big picture! The point is _I'm_ the one that set everything up, because I saw how into him you were when you didn't even know him. And I can see how you're even more into him now that you guys have spent some time together. You're even moping because he's not here and you haven't seen him in a while. I know moping Keith and this," his finger circled Keith’s face, "is moping."

Keith placed the drink down on the seat beside them. His face fell into his hands, but Lance could see his ears heat up.

"Oh my god, Blue, I can't believe that you're actually right."

"You're darn tootin'. Hey! What do you mean by actually?!"

Keith ignored the outburst. He was too busy going through his own little epiphany. "Damn it Lance, I really like him. Like really really like him, more than just some stupid crush. He's hot and all that but he's really funny too and just downright adorable and thoughtful..."

For once, Lance let the previous insult slide and was agreeing with all of Keith's points.

"Uggghh," Keith squeezed his head, pulling back his hair as breathed out his emotion. "What am I gonna do?"

Lance's laughed short and dry as he crossed his arms. "Hell if I know."

Keith was about to thank his friend for such amazing advice and that he totally knew what he should do now when a sudden movement toward the door caught his eye. Someone had just ran into the club without showing ID, a major no-no, and Hunk was stopping them with his polite but no nonsense vibe. The one that said 'I may look chill but if you don't show me your ID in the next minute, then we're going to have a problem'.

But that wasn't what Keith gaze had zeroed in on. It was a little floof of hair that had been pushed back as the person hurriedly searched for his wallet and handed over his license.

Keith didn't trust his eyes. With how strung out everyone seemed to think he was, he surely was imagining the color. Pure white.

Only when Lance stiffened beside him, did Keith know he wasn't just fantasizing. There was a clatter on the floor below them. Keith had knocked the drink down when he stood. He hadn't even realized that he had moved but that, along with the noise of the glass breaking, drew attention from then man in question as well as Hunk. The man locked eyes with Keith and didn't break his gaze as he made his way over.

There was a sudden rushing in Keith's ears as his heart sped up. Part of him wanted to run, but he was rooted in place. He didn't know what to do. Vaguely, he registered Hunk giving him a thumbs-up but the image was fleeting. Soon, the man took up all his line of sight.

"Red," Shiro says softly, almost out of breath.

A shiver ran down Keith's spine. He definitely wasn't imagining this.

For a few minutes they just stared at each other, Shiro catching his breath as Keith looked him over.

His suit was rumpled, his jacket clinging onto one shoulder as the other arm hung loose off the other. His tie looked more like a knot and he had missed a loop when putting on his belt.

Keith glanced back into Shiro's eyes; he had been analyzing him as well. Keith wondered if he could read the tiredness in his eyes, the slight vibrating his whole body seemed to do because he was so wound up.

Keith didn't know if it was because he looked like shit or because he had been gone so long, but Shiro's eyes were filling with remorse. "Red," the apology in Shiro's voice so clear that a shock went through Keith.

Before he could finish, however, Keith's arm shot out to grab Shiro's hand. Without another word, Keith lead him to a private room.

"I guess I'll clean this up," Lance yelled angrily after him, pissed that the rest of his drink had been wasted. Keith only waved in acknowledgement.

Once in the room, Keith practically shoved Shiro into the chair before moving to the monitor to adjust the room's settings and set up his music.

"Red," Shiro tried again.

Keith silenced him with a look before turning back and finishing with the monitor. Instead of joining Shiro on the couches, Keith made his way to the small stage in the center or the room, using the pole to pull himself up. There was a protest on Shiro's lips. Keith narrowed his eyebrows and instead of voicing it, Shiro obediently pressed his lips into a line. He stared at Keith, waiting.

Now on the stage, Keith's heart fluttered. It wasn't Keith's first private dance, but this was his first time legitimately dancing for Shiro. Everything else had been only talking before with some light teasing. Keith couldn't even do that the way he wanted; Shiro had only let him get away with some flirting and pressing his body against his every now and then. Never anything more. But this was a full out dance, like the ones he would do with anyone else. It was an understatement to say that he was nervous. It also helped when he turned his back to Shiro, the main cause of the twitching of his fingers and his sweaty palms. Keith inconspicuously wiped off his hands, gave himself a mini pep talk and posed.

As the music began to play- a mashup of Arctic Monkey's R U Mine and Do I Wanna Know that Pidge had worked on recently- Keith's uneasiness began to lessen. The bass overpowered the pounding of his heart, allowing him to relax as it slowed to match the beat. Dancing wasn't anything new to him. It was basically muscle memory at this point, so it was easier to push aside his agitation and slip into the mindset that he depended on so highly as Red.

He began with a shake of his hips, slowly back and forth in rhythm of the music. Then as the guitar picked up he approached the pole, dancing around it, dipping his head back and swishing his hair. He glanced at Shiro through his lashes and he swore he saw the other man gulp.

Keith smirked and decided to kick it up a notch. Still dancing with the music, Keith began to slowly slip off his crop top, leaning against the pole to arch his back enticingly. He lowered himself to the floor and threw it off to the side before getting more serious with his pole work. He lifted himself up into a dove, holding himself up with only his hands as his legs pointed back and bent him into a delicate curve. He held the position for a second, letting Shiro get a good long look before flipping himself over and holding himself up with his legs.

He did the inverse of the previous movement, now leaning back so that his arms reached toward the floor. Using his abs, he pulled himself up and swung around the pole, swishing his hips, extending his legs out, anything he could think of to convey what he felt. To get rid of this twisty feeling in his stomach that turned this way and that whenever Shiro looked at him.

The song reached its last verse as Keith landed in a split under the pole. Keith caught Shiro staring at him, pleased that Shiro’s eyes hadn't left his moving body the whole time that he had been dancing. Keith pulled himself to his knees and used the rest of the stage to crawl his way toward Shiro, standing into a slight crouch when his feet touched the floor. Instead of remaining in front of the other man, some sort of courage overcame Keith and he found himself straddling Shiro's lap, who looked slightly alarmed but didn’t oppose. After resting his hands on Shiro's shoulders, Keith was now face to face with the man he had been waiting on for the past month.

Keith's chest rose and fell, only inches away from pressing against Shiro's. They regarded one another and as the lyrics began to fade one question remained in the air:

 ** _Are you mine?_**

It struck a chord inside of Keith and he took in a shaky breath. A new song began to play in the background, something slow and without lyrics. Shiro sensed the change in Keith almost immediately. "Red," he began, the same sadness in his voice from earlier.

Keith immediately shook his head, pressing his finger against Shiro's lips to hush him. "No, Shiro. Not right now. There's something I need to tell you first."

Shiro remained patiently quiet. Keith looked away from him for a second, nervous even though he was literally in Shiro's lap.

"You've been gone for a long time," Shiro made a noise in the back of his throat but didn't speak. Keith paused for a second before going on.

"Look that's whatever, you have your own life, you're not made of money, it doesn't matter. Though, it did make me realize one thing. I-I missed you. And I know that's totally crazy, I'm just some stripper at some club you never wanted to come to in the first place. We haven't known each other that long, but I've really enjoyed the time we've spent together. Genuinely appreciated it, not just because you paid me. And I'm not just saying this to try and butter you up so that you would fork over more or something...not that I ever accept your money anyway..."

Keith groaned. "This isn't coming out right," he whined to himself, carding his fingers through his hair. He pressed his sweaty forehead against Shiro, squeezing his eyes shut. "I like you ok? I’ve had a crush on you for weeks. A big one. Not only because you're attractive, either, though anyone with eyes can clearly see that you are. You're caring and such a sweetheart that I never have to worry about you doing anything that might make me uncomfortable. You think you take advantage of me, when I feel like I'm the one benefiting from you.

"Hearing you booked me for even just a few hours is the best part of my day. The times when you can't get a room and we have a couple of drinks together or you just stop by to see my main performance are highlights to otherwise stressful weeks. I like the time I get to spend with you. I want to spend more time with you. I want more for us. I want there to be an 'us'. I want to call you mine."

Keith peeked to gauge Shiro's reaction. Shiro looked at him blankly, processing the words that tumbled out of Keith on their own accord.

When a minute or two had passed, and still nothing had happened, Keith began to lean away from Shiro, already thinking what he said was a mistake. He just broke the biggest rule the club had: don't fall for the clients.

This sudden movement triggered Shiro's response. His hands closed around Keith's waist and with a desperate grunt, Shiro kissed him.

It only took a stunned Keith a few seconds before kissing back,fire racing through his body as Shiro's hands roamed up and down his sides.

"Jesus, Red you have no idea how crazy I am about you, how I have been since day one," Shiro admitted between breaths. "How much I've thought of doing stuff like this but didn’t wanna push what we had...didn’t want to use you like everyone else because you were more than that for me..."

When Keith let out an eager moan, they both realized how dangerous their situation could become. They took a second to calm themselves down and catch their breath. They were still in the club after all. Keith didn't need to go breaking all the rules in one night.

As Keith pulled away from Shiro, S&M from Rihanna began to play. Shiro's eyebrow immediately rose. "My, my, I didn't know you were into such things," he teased.

Keith blushed. He moved to shut off the playlist, but Shiro held him in his lap. "That was the last song on my playlist. It may have autoplayed into the music of one of my more...adventurous co-workers," he admitted, silently cursing Lance in his head. Why did his list have to be so close to Keith's?

Shiro enjoyed Keith's reaction and let out a laugh before pulling him back in for another kiss. "What do you say we get outta here, Red?" His fingers trailed from Keith’s lips down his throat. His pupils, though cleared, were still hungry.

Keith couldn't help the little chuckle that escaped his throat. "My name is Keith," he corrected before pressing his lips against Shiro's.


End file.
